


A Winter Gift

by LobsterLobster



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 06:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LobsterLobster/pseuds/LobsterLobster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichabod is not prepared for the harsh New York winter and Abbie has decided to do something about it.  Ichabbie friendship fluff!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Winter Gift

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this today in honor of the polar vortex that made my world very cold this week. I’ve had this plot bunny for a while and finally decided to write it.  
> Ichabbie hugging! (this seems to be a recurring theme...it's not my fault they're so adorable!)  
> No actual bunnies were harmed in the making of this fic.

There was only a light dusting of snow on the ground but the sky was grey and heavy and the wind coming in off the lake was bitterly cold. Abbie’s waterproof boots crunched on the icy snow as she hurried towards the cabin.

Ichabod opened the door to let her in just as she got to the top step. He must have heard her pull up. 

“Thanks!” she said and gratefully stepped inside, stamping her feet on the mat. 

Ichabod closed the door again and said lightly, “Good morning, Lieutenant.” 

He was finishing up his morning cup of tea. They would make coffee later, at the precinct.

“Morning, Crane,” she replied.

“I shall be ready to go momentarily,” he said, placing his mug on the table and moving around the cabin to locate his jacket and a few books that he’d brought from the Archives.

“Hey, I got you some stuff,” Abbie said, holding up the large bag that she was holding. She set it on the long wooden table. 

Now she had his full attention. 

“What is it?” Ichabod asked curiously, reaching into the canvas shopping bag.

“Sorry, no donut holes today,” Abbie smirked a little, “Just some winter stuff. You need to be prepared.”

Ichabod pulled out the first item. He ran his hands across the soft black fleece material, not quite grasping what it was but amazed at just how smooth, how incredibly soft the fabric was. 

For a brief moment he was uncharacteristically at a loss for words, much to Abbie’s amusement. 

“This may quite possibly be the softest material that I have ever felt,” he said, adding, “in my entire life!” 

“Come on now, open it up,” Abbie encouraged him, taking it from his hands and shaking it out to demonstrate, “It’s a North Face jacket, very warm.”

“Oh,” he said, realization dawning. He’d thought it was just a blanket. 

“Don’t worry, Crane,” Abbie said, holding up a hand as if to ward off any protests. 

“I’m not trying to replace your old clothes or anything. I know you’re super attached to those old things,” she said, a tinge of affection creeping into her voice, “but you’re gonna need an extra layer or two if you want to survive the winter. You can wear this under your blue coat.”

Ichabod obediently pulled the jacket on, tugging on the sleeves to see how it felt. 

“What do you think? I had to guess at the size, so if it doesn’t fit we can go exchange it later,” Abbie said.

“You chose well,” Ichabod said, twisting and moving his arms about, more than a little surprised to find himself enjoying this foreign clothing as much as he did. “And you’re right, it is quite warm!”

He popped the collar up, looking quite pleased. 

Abbie grinned. 

She’d stood in the store looking at the jackets, debating with herself for at least thirty minutes before she’d finally decided to buy it. It was so hard to predict what modern amenities the Revolutionary soldier would love, like donut holes and coffee machines, or what would set him off on an angry tirade for days, like the whole bottled water debacle. 

On top of that, she simply didn’t have the heart to say anything about his clothes although by now they were borderline ragged and he really ought to have at least one spare set of clothes, in case of emergencies. Sooner or later he was going to have to deal with that, but Abbie wasn’t going to force him if she could help it. She knew better than anyone what it felt like to wake up somewhere new, somewhere you hadn’t chosen to live but couldn’t leave, with precious little to hold on to, to connect you to the life you had before. 

If she wasn’t taking away his old things, she figured he really couldn’t complain about being given more clothes. After all, winter in Sleepy Hollow could be brutally cold and she was concerned about his safety. It was Abbie’s duty as a Witness to protect him from hypothermia, that’s all. 

Ichabod was hunched over, fumbling with the zipper, so Abbie pulled the next item out of the bag. She held it in both hands, reached up, and boldly put the hat on his head. 

“What are you doing?” Ichabod exclaimed. 

Abbie couldn’t help but laugh at his surprise. Okay, this was turning out to be a lot of fun, she thought to herself. 

It was a lumberjack style hat, soft leather on the outside, felt on the inside, and real rabbit fur lining the flaps that come down to cover the ears.

“You need a hat too,” Abbie said matter-of-factly, “You can’t be walking around all winter without even a hat.”

“You’re not wearing a hat, Lieutenant,” he said coyly, raising an eyebrow slightly.

“Mine’s in the car,” she replied. Only for dire emergencies, since she hated how static-y it made her hair.

Abbie gave the ear flaps one last tug, making sure the hat set straight. Oh, she was definitely standing too close, looking right up into his smiling blue eyes, but it was too late now. 

“See, it even clips together here to keep the wind out,” she said, deftly clicking together the snaps dangling from the ear flaps under his chin. 

She stepped back to admire her work. 

Ichabod raised his hands to feel the hat. He was stunned. This was such a fine hat, clearly made of the highest quality materials, the workmanship so perfect that not one spot poked or itched, and it fit him perfectly. 

What’s more, Abbie had given it to him so casually. It wasn’t even Christmas (she’d already given him a Christmas present, for that matter, odd as it was) or his birthday and he wasn’t leaving for a long journey, all of which were appropriate occasions for such a gift. Today was just a regular day, regular as you could ask for in this town anyway, a Tuesday morning in early December. 

Abbie was rambling on about how some poor innocent bunny had been sacrificed to make this hat so he better take care of it, how he may have already survived Valley Forge but there was no need to be cold now, how she’d also bought some gloves, extra socks, and flannel long-johns. 

Ichabod stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Abbie, suddenly hugging her tightly. 

“Oh!” she said in surprise, her voice muffled against his chest. She reflexively returned the embrace.

Ichabod was overwhelmed with gratitude, for the exceedingly generous gifts, for Abbie’s presence in his life, the way she constantly surprised him, the way she was always taking care of him, even when he doesn’t notice right away, all the myriad small things she did that show what a good friend she is and keep him from completely falling apart at the end of the day.

“Thank you, Abbie,” he said in a soft voice, emotion once again getting the best of him. 

“I honestly cannot remember the last time I was given such wonderful gifts,” he pulled back to look her in the eye.

“I promise that I will treasure them always,” he said sincerely. 

“You’re welcome, Crane,” Abbie smiled and couldn’t help giving him one last, small squeeze (that fleece jacket was unreasonably soft) before pulling away and letting her arms fall back to her sides. 

“Well, it’s time to put your new winter gear to the test!” Abbie said, zipping her coat back up and heading towards the door, “I heard it might snow again later.”

Ichabod quickly stuck his feet into his boots, pulled his old blue coat over his fleece jacket, tossed his small stack of books into the shopping bag, and followed her out the door. 

“Yes, let’s get to work.”


End file.
